


the angels are watching

by kingandqueeninthenorth



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:54:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingandqueeninthenorth/pseuds/kingandqueeninthenorth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Robb,” she sighs. It could be innocent, the way she says his name, but the way her breath catches around each syllable, her voice dipping to a raw rasp, makes it impossible for him to think about anything other than making her back arch and her hands twist in the sheets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the angels are watching

The clock reads two o’clock in the morning when she comes stumbling through the front door, loud enough to wake him if he hadn’t already been up waiting for her.

“I’m just going out with a few friends to celebrate the breakup,” she had said as she walked out her bedroom in a little black dress that fit her as though it had been painted on. “Don’t wait up for me.”

He did anyway.

She kicks off her heels as drops them by the door along with her keys. She tiptoes across the floor and starts up the stairs without ever seeing him. Only when he turns on the living room light does she even look his way.

She shields her eyes from the light and braces herself against the railing for support. “Robb,” she says in surprise. “I didn’t know you were up.”

“You’re drunk,” he says softly.

She shakes her head and sways a bit before she finds her balance again. “I’m not, I promise.”

“Sansa…”

“I’m fine,” she insists, beginning her clumsy ascent up the stairs as though she intends to prove her sobriety. Her first few steps are surefooted, but it isn’t long before she trips, collapsing in a fit of giggles that threaten to wake the whole house.

He sighs and comes up behind her, lifting her up and into his arms as easily as he did when they were just kids. She smells like cheap beer and the citrusy perfume she wears, which make for a strong and intoxicating combination. “You’re going to wake everyone.”

“We don’t want that,” she decides, lowering her voice to what he assumes is meant to be a whisper.

“No,” he agrees, carrying her to her room.

They reach the top of the stairs and he takes her to her bedroom. He lowers her to the ground, giving her back to her own unsteady feet. She immediately goes to work on her dress, pulling her arms free as best she can whilst trying to maintain her balance. He leans against her doorframe, fixed to the floor with fascination. He knows he should turn, leave her to her own devices and try to sleep, but still he stands and watches.

“Help,” she whimpers when she gets her dress twisted about her head.

He pulls the dress up and off of her, leaving her in nothing but lace, lace, and more lace. Her bra and panties are dainty and sheer, and they leave little to the imagination. He looks away, to the walls where pictures of their family hang. His parents smile on them proudly, and yet he stands undressing his sister with a swelling ache in his cock.

He catches glimpses of fading bruises and ugly red marks on his sister’s skin as she takes off her jewelry and drops it to the floor. His blood boils at the thought of Joffrey, but he pushes it away. _She’s free of him_ , he reminds himself.

He busies his hands with her bed. He pulls back the sheets and takes her wrist, guiding her to the mattress. She crawls in and he tucks the covers tightly around her, as if to keep anyone else out. He wonders if he does it for her benefit or his own.

She brushes her disheveled hair from her face and looks at him with hooded eyes. “You’ll stay, won’t you?”

He feels his parents’ eyes watching him from behind the glass of the picture frames. “I can’t.”

“You can,” she whispers.

He starts to pull away and she catches his hand, her skin feverish as he blood sings with alcohol.

“Robb,” she sighs. It could be innocent, the way she says his name, but the way her breath catches around each syllable, her voice dipping to a raw rasp, makes it impossible for him to think about anything other than making her back arch and her hands twist in the sheets. “Just touch me. I want you to.”

He hardly fights as she takes his hand and slips it beneath her bra, inviting his fingers to knead the skin just above her heart.

“You need to sleep,” he says weakly. “You’re drunk.”

“Just a little,” she whispers, dragging his finger over her stiffened nipple.

He shakes his head and pulls his hand away, avoiding the eyes on the walls. The fond, frozen smiles of his family give him a claustrophobic, choking feeling.

She catches him by the belt, looping her fingers around it and pulling him towards her. She bites her lip and skims her fingers over his throbbing cock, her eyes watching his expression hungrily. He winces and she gives him a lazy smile.

“Not tonight,” he murmurs.

“But I want you,” she breathes, and he knows he’s done for.

He leans toward her and presses a kiss to her lips. It’s as if she blooms beneath him, opening like a blossom would for the sun. Her lips part with a gasp and her hands reach for his hair as she draws herself closer to him. She tastes like bad alcohol and breathless thrill.

She pulls him onto the bed with her and he feels her spread her legs. Her inhibitions and patience have both been drowned in alcohol. He desperately wants to, but he can’t. Not with his parents across the hall and on the walls and in his head. Not with her drunk off cheap beer and exhilaration.

“Sleep, Sansa.” His voice is strong and resolute, despite the fact that he wants nothing more than to give her what she wants. He disentangles himself from her. “Lie down and sleep.”

Each step he takes away from her resonates painfully between his legs.

“I’ll still want you in the morning,” she says when he reaches the door. Her eyes are half closed and her cheeks are red with heat, but for the first time since she’s arrived home, she sounds relatively sober.

He has nothing to say to that.

“Close the door behind you.”

He does.


End file.
